La Vie
by MoarCowbell
Summary: But there it was. Fourteen blue lines, two harassed Torchwood consultants and one frantic mother all pointing to the fact that there was a baby, albeit a slightly different one, embarking on its journey of existence. Post Doomsday.
1. Prologue

_So, after nearly four years of writing absolutely nothing, I thought it was about time I got round to doing something about it. In truth, I bought the Season 2 boxset from ASDA the other day rewatched the entire 14 episodes. So I guess I'm just unleashing some pent-up creativity. Hopefully it'll go okay. Many thanks go to d'Anima for beta-ing, is that even a word? Anyway, check out her profile, she's got some good stuff on there._

_So, thanks for clicking, now be reading, and hopefully as it would make me veeery happy after such a long hiatus, be reviewing!_

It took three weeks, fourteen tests, and two visits to the wrong sort of Doctor for Rose Tyler to believe that she was pregnant. And when she did, it came with the staggering realisation that she had no idea _how._ It certainly wasn't through some drunken one-night stand; as Mickey the angry idiot had suggested, nor through "one of those dodgy clinics that Vicky Robson from the shop" went to, as her mother had; which left Rose with the conclusion that it may or may have been entirely due to one 900-year old Time Lord, with whom she may or may not have spent a few lonely nights on board the TARDIS.

But there it was. Fourteen blue lines, two harassed Torchwood consultants and one frantic mother all pointing to the fact that there was a baby, albeit a slightly different one, embarking on its journey of existence.

And she cried, and smiled, and yelled at anyone and everyone about ice-cream. She read educational books with her mother, and bought clothes and toys and a pram with Mickey, and decorated a room of the mansion with planets and stars and butterflies with Pete; and prepared herself as any new mother should.

And when the baby was born it had a loving mother, and doting grandparents, and a flirtatious Captain and a pensive mechanic for companions.

And it wanted for nothing in life but the names of the stars and the embrace of its father.


	2. Part Two

_Was meant to get this up ages ago, but unfortunately had it uploaded in the doc manager on a different computer, then had to re-write it. Thanks for reading, if you like it, or don't, drop me a review!_

_Part Two_

And the child grew, and learned the alphabet, and the names of the 500 planets and stars in the book her mother gave her, and not to bring 'lost' bugs and snails and twigs into her room.

She had eyes that glinted gold in the sunlight, and soft brown curls that never seemed to stay in one place, no matter how many ties and clips her mother used.

She had a penchant for things of the banana flavour, a certain distaste for anything of the pear, and insisted on marmalade for breakfast every morning.

She ate more mixture than she helped to put in the cake tin, and squealed when Jack chased her around the garden, and cried when her blue crayon broke- "blue is for the TARDIS, mummy", and sat silently by Mickey as he replaced a leaking radiator.

She talked incessantly of everything she saw, thought, and felt, and rattled off innumerable equations and theories on subjects her family knew nothing of.

The imagination of a child, Jackie said.

She sung wordless songs of a time gone by; haunting melodies that played on her mother's mind like memories.

And high on a hill, in the creeping shadow of night the child pointed out the stars she knew by heart and murmured their names, and sang her mother a song about ones of the twinkly variety. And her mother told her of the stars _she_ had seen, and of ghosts and Daleks and nuns that are cats (not the pragmatical kind), and of the people she had met on her travels.

And she crawled into bed, the soft embrace of sleep pressing down on her eyes. And her mother tucked her in, and held her close, and whispered tales of aliens, of adventure, of love, and of daddy and his blue box in the sky;

up above the world so high._  
_

_Fin._


End file.
